Our Wedding Vows 11/06/2010

Jasmine’s Vows
Sweet beautiful Jeffery
You are my best friend.
When you smile, my heart feels lighter
When you laugh, my breath is deeper
I believe we will grow old together
That we will spend holidays as a family
And watch our grandchildren being born.

I have this image of us
All grey and wrinkly.
Me tending to the tomatoes
You cleaning the patio.
And that’s why I choose us.

I have seen you at your worst
I have seen you at your best
I have tended to your wounds
And you have tended to mine.
I love you and that’s more important to me than our address, bank account balance, the number we see on the scale or the jobs we hold.

I choose us.

I am a better person because of you
And nothing’s ever felt more real.
I know we can both go on with our lives alone
And we’d be fine,
But I have seen what we can be together
And I choose us.

With all my heart and all my soul love,
I choose us.



Jeff’s Vows
Jasmine,
During the time we have been together,
Your love has given me a clarity that has brought us to the alter today.
Because of that I want to share these vows with you.

The rest of our days will be spent together.
Lonely will only be a word in the dictionary.
After a hard day I will provide a soft place to fall.
I will defend you when you need defending.
I will be your best friend.
I will love you unconditionally, forever.

I promise I will try to make you laugh every day.
And on your worst day I will be there.
I love you.

I stumbled on medical news about myself. Recently I had a much needed physical. Some of the lab tests seemed odd. I logged on to the medical site. Buried in one of over a dozen tests were the doctors comments: I reviewed your lab results and they show your thyroid does not function properly. You need thyroid hormone.

Hypothyroidism. Seems rather benign doesn’t it? I am discovering how much it isn’t. I compensate. I adjust. I re-adjust. That’s been my life. When my hair brush filled up faster, I cleaned it more often and started fancying the bun. When I felt extra tired at work, I worked longer and drank more coffee.

My feelings of depression were because I was grieving the loss of my brother not because of my hormones. Right? My ankles and elbows were showing patches of dryness, in fact my skin was simply dryer than usual but that was just age. And the unexplained sinus infections and colds – that was just because I was stressed out and needed to take my vitamins more regularly.

I have been extremely cold in the mornings when I wake up – I just need to get moving I think to myself. The lower part of my neck has been in constant pain but that was just because I had started working out again and squinting too much at the monitor. I wasn’t losing weight because I was only working out 4-5 times a week for 60 minutes and I should be working out more. If I kept my intake at 1100 calories instead of 1500 calories I would shed faster.

My upper eyelids have become noticeably swollen, sometimes edemic in appearance. That’s just because I am overweight and fat I tell myself. My memory (and I have always prided myself on having a good one) has been spotty . Stress, loss of brother, being overweight. I had a million excuses. All of them pointed to me and my lack of discipline and/or sensibility.

What I am now discovering is that I placed too much Catholic guilt and it cost me. For years I have been suffering and now there is a label to the reason. As I continue my first few months of this diagnosis I am bound to feel better so they say. I cannot help but think that I have been given a chance to change. Others don’t get the same opportunity and today, for this minute, I am very tired but grateful.

I had a dream

Setting = random coffee house in somewhere Portland. Time = after class. Participants are wrapping up conversation. I stand at the front of the room, thinking. This really could have been better. There were things I wished I would have said. All the current underneath the current thoughts. Thoughts teachers simply should not share with their students.

Like you. Uh yeah, you (pointing) you in the back. Busy Betty. The one who secretly runs through every post in a juicy attempt to spread gossip about me. What’s your dealio? I know it’s low self-esteem and boredom but what does it really accomplish and are you truly satisfied with that? Why don’t you just ask me, the human in front of your face what you want to know? I think you enjoy stirrin’ it up a little, huh? Instead of trying to find details to spread, maybe it’s time to read one of my posts all the way through for a change.

And you. The one on the side winking at me. Harmless Henry. The one who always manages to send a pithy but pertinent quote my way. The answer is yes. Absolutely. I would LOVE to have an incredibly passionate affair. I think it about it too. Here’s the thing. Right now I am in a long-term relationship. Crazy huh? Ultimately I have always touted myself as a follow the energy girl. And you know (bite lip) I would love to do that with you. But if you only read this to find ammunition to score, maybe it is time to find another hottie of the month?

Ah yes. Then there’s you. Caring Carla. Sweet beautiful you. The one who always shows up, on time, reading intently and digesting every word. I love you. You are always a part of me and know most everything about me. Thank you for being in my life. I wish there was a way I could share more in person but sometimes I just cannot. Anonymous, random posts seem to be the path I have chosen for now. There’s so much to gain by just going inside and focusing a minute on the here and now.

And. Excuse me. Hey! YOU! Speedy Sport. The one who scans through a thousand blogs a day and never stops to fully comprehend the actual post itself. Keep moving. There’s nothing to see here. That you would get anyway.

Deep breath. Smile. Hi. How are you Sensitive Sarah? Yes my coffee is good. Yes. My chair is comfortable. Yes, I have everything I need. I know. You learn just reading through even one paragraph. Here’s the thing. It’s time for you to find your own style. Yes. I know. It’s important to drink in the style of those you admire. But there comes a time when your style is not just a combination of all those you have met along the way but truly yours. Hang in there. Keep reading and I cannot wait to see you emerge.

On second thought I am not quite sure my judgments would really benefit them. Maybe it is just time to acknowledge these simple observations should really be directed inward. It tends to be true that what bothers me the most in others is what bothers me most about myself. Ouch. It stings when the teacher schools herself!

Making Peace with Pessimists

It is time to make this clear. I am an eternal optimist. I seek the silver lining, the cup half full, the experience most desirable and try to focus on the end goal and how we can achieve that together.

There are, however, a group of folks that forever see me as living in a dream and out of touch with reality. The not so elusive pessimist. Linus cloud syndrome. Stating 'reality' can be a common tactic for a professional pessimist but let me be clear that pragmatists are a different breed. What I mean is the ability to, without reservation, imagine all the bad things that can happen to people, to themselves, to a plan, to the world.

I find myself exasperated when I am being judged by a pessimist. How dare you? I am here trying to make the world a better place and you are solely interested in figuring out how it won't be. Interesting conundrum - I judge them for judging me. But, being true to form, I am determined to find the good in pessimists.

Five Reasons to Value Pessimists

1. Pessimists identify problems. Sometimes I am so busy seeing the good that I miss an obstacle that needs overcoming.


2. Pessimists clarify value. Their reasons why not help me to clarify why my idea is good and should be implemented.


3. Pessimists provide motivation. I feel an extra surge of energy when all hope is lost.


4. Pessimists identify mistakes. A professional pessimist will continuously point out what I am doing wrong. This helps me improve my skill set for the future.


5. Pessimists provoke. There are times and I know for some of you this will be very difficult to believe *not* when I get so attached to an idea or a way of doing things that I cling to it fervently in the face of pessimistic assault. These torturous attack methods assist me in remembering to detach and let go.

Okay. I had hoped the list would be ten reasons strong. Some of you did not think I could do it at all. Some of you thought it would be much easier and I fell short. What I need to remember now is to READ THIS LIST when the pessimists come a knockin' on my cubicle door.

Muse Momma

I recently realized dear reader you might be coming to an erroneous conclusion. I do not live to watch Oprah. I know. That's ok. We'll get through this together. Even though my last few posts have centered around her guests, there are many other literary muses in my life.

In light of an upcoming Hallmark holiday, it is time to read about my ultimate cheerleader. As I contemplate 40, I think back to the start of my mom's fifth decade. She began hers by earning a master's degree in business administration. A few years later she would surrender the automobile and use her feet to carry her through life.

Having never remarried since her divorce over thirty years ago, my mother has taught me the beauty of self sufficiency. She has the most exciting life. Travelling the world. Opening her mind daily to new ideas and experiences. This year she explores Amsterdam! Because of her, I am sketching again and my desire for travel compounds.

Our relationship has not always been great. I do not worship her. I do understand, however, there are very few people who will (through thick and thin) always try to see the best in you. Those people are golden. That is what my mother continues to be for me.

The loss of my brother has of course taken a huge toll. It sickens me that one of the natural side effects of a grieving parent is questioning the value of their efforts. To hear her say she has failed saddens me deeply. This mother's day I am making a list. A list of good memories I have of my childhood. Memories of my mom and me. The memories will go on pieces of paper that I decorate. The pieces of paper will go in a box. The box will be wrapped and presented on May 10th.

It won't take the grief away but maybe, just maybe she can open the box during her times of sadness and loss to remember. Remember that unlike any other, the day she became my muse was the day she became a mother.

Tanya Harding

Okay. Yes. I have felt guilty. For two months I have not blogged. When I got back after a week from my own bed - I had a title all picked out - My Pillow. I thought about it when my boyfriend and I had a really big fight. Title = Bitch Session. I have been feeling resistance. Anger. As I have struggled with work, working out and life - I have struggled with what to blog. Why can't I write? Could it be I have unreasonably high standards of myself and others? Hmmmm.

Now. Struggling. I want to share something meaningful and juicy. But all I got is this. The truth is I am still grieving. Yes. This May 1st. Three years without my brother on this planet.

I don't have any bubble essence stories. Not right now. I just got home. I am watching, you guessed it, Oprah. Sensing a theme yet? Today's topic - revisiting old stories. First up. Tanya Harding.

I watch her and the classic cartoon bubble appears. I remember the night Greg you came to my house, drunk. I remember how excited you were. You had just met her in the bar 1/2 way down my street. I remember you thinking for one brief shining moment you knew someone famous. Bragging about how you could sleep with her. Getting into a fight with me about her. You threatened to hurt me. I called Dad. You were upset. He let you drive home.

You are not on this planet and it wasn't always easy when you were. The drinking. The verbal abuse. The threats. Yet all I can think about is how I love you. You are missing so much life Greg.

This Easter we all missed you. It was the last time I got to hug you and kiss you. Will Easter always be hard? I wonder. We also laughed. We ate good food. We saw a show. We enjoyed our time together. And you are missing this. You are missing life. I so wish you could be here to see the sun come up this morning. To see the view from my deck. To hear about how I kicked butt managing an event for 3oo people at the downtown Hilton.

I guess I am in the mad phase now. Angry. Why did you take you away from us? Why, after 3 years am I still asking why? I love you.

Always and forever, your sis

It's Bubble Time

Dennis Hopper directed it. I graduated from high school the year it was released. An experienced cop and his rookie partner patrol the streets of East L.A. He was 28 and played Dennis McGavin. Know him yet? I offer a final clue for those who still don't have one: one of his famous partners was Madonna. Ah. Now you have it. Sean Penn. I do not know if it was astrological convergence or some random situation that caused me to watch the movie Colors during the Oscars last night.

One of the great DVR pleasures is time. Time without commercials. Time with the show of your choice. Time for a truly pleasurable viewing experience. Wow. When did I get to be such an, well, American? Yikes. DVRs are beeyouteeful.

Anyway, flash forward to tonight where Sean Penn is larger than life on my HD screen. He is on Oprah's After-Oscar Party show (skillfully recorded earlier in the day). Sleepless and submitting words to the gracious billionaire host, I watch him comment on his best actor win for Milk. I am happy for the movie. It is a great moment for the movement. There is, however, another moment I notice. My 'I cannot believe someone else in this universe feels the same way I do' moment. Oprah asks him what it really felt like to be on stage delivering his acceptance speech. He said something like, "Oh that. That's just bubble time."

Yes. That's right. Bubble time. The reason why I created this blog. To describe and define my bubble times. My bubble essences. The moments in life that are so undescribably spectacular. Watching my shoe cross the marathon finish line. Holding my breath before I jump head first out of an airplane. Giving a speech to 500 sales people in a Vegas hotel. Those are some of my bubble times. And I am selfish. I want more. Not just for me but for everyone around me. Bubble times are not always flashy but they are the best of the best.

Here I sit. Browsing through previous posts. I search. I cannot find it. Not really even a drop of it. My bubble essences are missing in action. The moments I co-create that touch other hearts and not just mine. THAT is what makes life worth living for me. A lessson I am still learning to embrace. This random series of events is pushing me back to my direction.